The House of the Trees
& Other Poems

by Ethelwyn Wetherald


Pine Needles

HERE where the pine tree to the ground
    Lets slip its fragrant load,
My footsteps fall without a sound
    Upon a velvet road.

O poet pine, that turns thy gaze
    Alone unto the sky,
How softly on earth’s common ways
    Thy sweet thoughts fall and lie!

So sweet, so deep, seared by the sun,
    And smitten by the rain,
They pierce the heart of every one
    With fragrance keen as pain.

Or if some pass nor heed their sweet,
    Nor feel their subtle dart,
Their softness stills the noisy feet,
    And stills the noisy heart.

O poet pine, thy needles high
    In starry light abode,
And now for footsore passers-by
    They make a velvet road. [Page 6]